


Day 1: Shaky Hands

by TheDarkestShade



Series: Whumptober 2019 [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Dark cares for Eric but doesn't even realise, Dr Iplier is done with Host, Egos, Egotober, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mark Fischbach Egos, They get stuck on a roof, Whumptober 2019, Wilford+caffeine is not good times, because he's an idiot, i suck at writing angst, poor eric, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 19:53:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20879780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkestShade/pseuds/TheDarkestShade
Summary: Wilford somehow got himself coffee, and things turn sour for Eric when he comes into contact with a caffeinated pink man.





	Day 1: Shaky Hands

Wilford had drank coffee.

Everyone knew this because the walls were pink, and there were bullet holes everywhere from when the Googles had tried to restrain the man. Those same Googles were now being tended to by Bing in their workshop, having failed to stop the pink man on his rampage through the manor. After he had escaped, he'd disappeared, leaving everyone on edge and prepared for any kind of attack. They had retreated to their rooms, hoping Wil wouldn't think to invade their privacy.

It had been a few hours when Eric realised he'd forgotten his handkerchief on the living room salon table. He had been pacing around his room, trying to figure out a way to stay in his room, but eventually giving up and simply hoping he wouldn't run into Wilford. He snuck out of the room, staying close to the walls and making as little sound as possible. He made it to the living room and almost breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted a poof of pink hair sticking out above the back of the couch. He sighed quietly and made his way over to the couch, hoping Wilford had calmed down a bit.

That hope disappeared when he spotted the dozen empty cups on the salon table.

He got to the couch and almost shrieked. Wilford was vibrating. He was messing with his beloved gun, hands shaky. He looked up as he heard the timid man approaching, a smile appearing on his face. "Well, look who's decided to come see lil' old Warfstache! Ain't that a pleasant surprise." Eric greeted him, trying his damndest not to stutter, and looked around searching for his handkerchief. Wilford caught him looking for it, and poofed into existence next to him. This startled the younger ego so bad he jumped backwards, almost falling onto the floor. The hyperactive man noticed and poofed again.

Eric didn't know what the pink man had intended, but he was quite certain Wilford hadn't planned on teleporting both of them to the roof. It was raining, and Eric was soaked almost immediately. He could hear Wil sputtering in surprise, before seeing a pink blur zooming around the roof. he called out, hoping to catch the blur's attention. Immediately after his voice rang out the older man ran up to him, stopping when he was directly in front of the younger one. Eric raised his arms, as if to shield himself, and immediately lowered them again when he realised Wilford didn't have his gun in his hands anymore. He didn't bring it up, afraid of how the crazed man might react to his gun missing. Instead, he opted for the safer option: "U-uh, why are w-we here?" His stutter had become even worse because of the rain, and he was now shivering in the cold. Wilford seemed puzzled for a moment before shrugging. "I don't think this was supposed to happen. Oh well." He then continued to run around the roof. Eric sighed, turning around to look for a door back down.

There was no door. They had been stuck on the roof for what felt like hours, and Eric was panicking. Wilford had crashed a while ago, the caffeine having made its way out of his system. Eric was sitting on the roof, shivering and hyperventilating as he made himself as small as possible. Wilford was sleeping next to him, unbothered by the rain or the cold.

And then they were back in the living room. Everything was silent, and Eric didn't dare to look up. _They'll be so mad I shouldn't have gone out they're gonna hurt me Wilford will be so mad Dark will hurt me he'll be so mad I can't breathe I can't BREATHE-_

A sense of calm washed over him and he distantly registered someone exclaiming something. He counted to three before looking up at whoever was shouting. He was greeted with the sight of Dark, Reynolds, The Host and Dr Iplier in front of him. Reynolds was kneeling in front of him, whispering reassurances Eric hadn't realised were there before then. Dark was supporting Wilford, who had woken up from the sudden teleportation, though he looked like he was about to pass out again. The exclamation he'd heard before had been Dr Iplier, who was now holding up a barely conscious Host, who's bandages threatened to slip off his nose with the amount of blood that was dripping from underneath them. Eric quickly got up to help the doctor, only to find his legs protesting with every little movement, and he shrieked before falling to the floor again. The doctor cursed and told Reynolds something Eric couldn't be bothered to listen to. He was in pain. He saw Reynolds move before feeling his pant legs being torn and his prosthetics being taken off. He sighed in relief as the pain subsided for the most part. He was still shivering and cold as ice, but it already seemed more bearable. He flinched when he felt a pressure on his body, but relaxed when he realised it was a weighted blanket.

He felt himself being lifted and straight-up _melted_. He heard a low chuckle coming from the person carrying him, and he opened his eyes again, surprised to find himself in Dark's arms. Wasn't he carrying Wilford just now? He decided he didn't care and pulled the blanket around him tighter. That was a question for another time.

By the time Dark reached Eric's room, the latter was already asleep. The being raised an eyebrow, smiling a little bit before catching himself and shaking his head. He put the handkerchief on the bedside table and left the room, making his way over to Wilford's room; Reynolds was _definitely_ not equipped to deal with a tired Wilford, but it had been an impulsive decision. He smirked as he heard Reynolds shout, which was followed by an explosion of pink glitter and smoke.

This was going to be interesting.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh here's a thing I wrote for Whumptober! I got really inspired so I wanted to try and do a few of the prompts this year (Also yeah I know it's the 3rd already shhh)  
I probably won't do all of them but I can try to do half!


End file.
